


Like Real People Do

by BilletDoux



Category: Marvel, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 11:09:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10638621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BilletDoux/pseuds/BilletDoux
Summary: A small drabble series for Logan and Remy. I might add more later.





	1. Does it Hurt?

**Author's Note:**

> Just a cute ship I like. They're fun to write in snipits.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy asks Logan about his claws.

Remy sits across from Logan, running a warm washcloth over his knuckles, helping him wipe away dry blood. Remy noticed them while they ate dinner - residual stains from a bit of light training they'd done in the late afternoon.

“It hurts, yeah?”

Logan looks confused. “What does?”

Remy raises the hand he was holding, uses his thumb to circle around the nearly nonexistent wounds between Logan’s knuckles. “‘Dose steak knives poppin’ out ya knuckles.”

Logan shrugs. “You get used to it.”

“‘Dat wasn't Remy’s question, _cher_.”

Remy didn't straighten his hair that day, and Logan notices his soft curls bounce as he speaks.

“Well, yeah,” Logan confesses. He doesn't want to tell Remy that his hands are always humming with a dull soreness, at _least_.

“It hurt now?”

“A little.”

Remy leans forward and presses his mouth against the back of Logan's hand, kissing where his scars had once been.

“‘Dere. I kiss it all better.”

Remy lets go of Logan’s hand and it falls to Remy's knee. Logan squeezes gently.

“Feels better already.”


	2. Without Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan finds Remy bent over the toilet, mid panic attack.

The first time Logan tells Remy he loves him isn't with the words. It comes when he finds Remy kneeling over the toilet, retching bile and sobbing, a panic attack emptying the contents of his stomach over his clothes and the floor. Logan holds Remy’s hair up when he began vomiting again, runs a bath, helps Remy peel the soiled clothing off of his nerve-wracked body, and assists him into the tub. He doesn't stare while Remy cleans himself, or when he begins to cry again, quietly. Logan offers a hand when the water becomes too cold to sit in any longer.

“I've got you,” Logan tells him.

“My bed is-”

“We can clean it in the morning. You need to sleep.” 

Remy takes the towel Logan is holding out for him in his other hand and wraps it around his body.

“Sorry.”

“You don't have to be.”

Logan lets him use a t-shirt, softened and worn with time. Remy tugs it over his head and crawls next to Logan in bed, who pulls their bodies flushed against one another. Remy puts his face in Logan's neck.

He rests his chin on the top of Remy's head, and Remy tries pushing himself further into the warmth of Logan’s body. “No one's gonna hurt you. I'm not going anywhere.”

Remy doesn't say anything, and Logan doesn't press.


	3. Cruel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is just pure PWP. Enjoy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” Remy hisses, raises his hips up and down from the mattress and grips deathly hard onto Logan's arm. He tries to get it to move without any luck. Remy curses Logan, continues to fuck himself with Logan's hand.

“Come on, darlin’,” Logan says, pressing a kiss into his temple of his head. “Come on. You can do it.”

Remy whines a desperate _Logan_ and squeezes harder. There’ll be bruises. They'll fade.

Remy is set on getting himself off, and Logan thinks he could watch him like this forever. His hair is stuck wet to his sweaty forehead, eyes shut tight with focus; his mouth keeps opening wider and wider the closer he gets. He looks almost pained by how close he is to cumming.

When he gets there - when Logan takes pity on him and gives him the couple of slick rough jerks of his hand that put him right over the edge - he isn't quiet. Remy never is. He cries out like it's the sweetest relief he's ever felt; his toes curl, and Logan kisses his jaw.

“You're _cruel_ ,” is the first thing Remy says, taking Logan's hand and kissing his palm, the junction between his thumb and index finger, swipes his tongue over the mess he's left on Logan's hand. Remy hears Logan growl low in his throat.

“You loved it.”

Remy flashes him a glance and kisses down to the crescent shaped marks Remy left with his nails, the black paint he put on them the week before now chipping.

“Shut up.”


End file.
